


give me never-ending

by tinymark (lumoon33)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming of Age, Falling In Love, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Angst, Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, mark lee doesn't know what to do with his life, not really mark is just a dramatic bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoon33/pseuds/tinymark
Summary: How Mark has never seen him around before, he doesn’t get it. That he’s going to be noticing him everywhere now, he’s sure of it with a finality that’s almost scary. Because he’s never sure of anything.or: mark loves a million times, but only once.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 47
Kudos: 331





	give me never-ending

**Author's Note:**

> well hello i dont know what this is. i was in the middle of planning my spidermark/ned!haech au when i played vibes by chase atlantic on repeat this happened. i feel like every fic writer had written a high school au before but me so it was about time i guess
> 
> just........ a bunch of words about mark trying to figure out his life and falling in love at the same time.
> 
> just a reminder that english isnt my first language and i dont have a beta reader so im sorry for any mistakes u can find!! i hope you enjoy this <3

It’s love at first sight.

It’s the uncombed light brown hair, curled over his forenead in messy waves. It’s the squinted twinkling eyes, staring at Mark through long black eyelashes. It’s the flushed cheeks, plump and round and soft looking, dotted with small moles. It’s the smile in between, the tongue that peaks between the bright, white teeth. It’s the way his chest is rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. It’s the way the short sleeves of the polo shirt of his uniform rile up his arms as he crosses them over his right leg, propped up on the bench, in the middle of the school hallway. It’s the line of his neck when he pushes his head back to laugh out loud, the sound rumbling against the old stone walls and reverberating inside of Mark’s chest, tugging at his heart strings a little.

“If the principal catches you running again he’s gonna beat your ass, dickweeb,” Renjun reprimands, his brows furrowed and his hands resting on his hips as he glares at the boy.

“Stop frowning so much,” the guy is talking way too loud for high school when the first bell has already rung. He stretches out an arm, as if to smooth Renjun’s forehead with his thumb, even though he’s way out of reach. “You’re gonna get wrinkles, old man,” but Renjun swats the hand away.

The guy’s arm falls helplessly to his side. Mark takes a step closer unconsciously, his fingers tightening around the straps of his bag to keep his hands to himself.

“I’m only three months older than you, asshole,” Renjun clicks his tongue.

“Still a year ahead, that makes you old,” the boy is still grinning as he jumps to stand up on the bench proudly.

“That makes me _smart_ ,” Renjun retorts, his voice high in annoyance. “You wanna get expelled or what? Seriously, Donghyuck.”

 _Donghyuck_. The name clicks in Mark’s brain nicely. He registers it fast, stores it safely in the corner he saves for fascinating things, like the way sunflowers can’t help but stare at the sun whenever it’s in sight.

“Elders are so boring,” Donghyuck whines, looking right at Mark. His neck gets hot, because he’s a year older than Renjun, and the amused curl to Donghyuck’s lips tells him he already knows.

Donghyuck stomps his right foot on the bench once, like a child about to throw a tantrum. It sounds way too loud in the silence of the empty hallway and, soon, there are fast footsteps approaching from the other end.

“See you, losers!”

His feet move over the bench incredibly fast, falling to the ground smoothly, running up the stairs at such speed, as if this is his morning routine. And then, he’s gone, like a magic trick. How Mark has never seen him around before, he doesn’t get it. That he’s going to be noticing him everywhere now, he’s sure of it with a finality that’s almost scary. Because he’s never sure of anything.

He stays still, staring at the now empty staircase where the boy, Donghyuck, disappeared. Renjun has to drag him out of the hallway, his nails sinking into Mark’s forearm as he complains: w _e’re gonna be so fucking late, goddammit. It always gotta be Donghyuck, distracting bastard._

Mark has been Renjun’s friend for about half an hour now, so he doesn’t know what he means by that. But he wonders if it’s always gonna be Donghyuck for him too, from now on.

He’s never taken love at first sight seriously, but this has to be it. The thought makes him laugh at himself on his way to their classroom, as he brushes his sweaty palms against the fabric of his uniform trousers.

\- - -

It’s love at second sight, too.

A couple days later, Donghyuck pokes his head into their classroom after the bell for recess rings. Somehow, Mark is finding him with his eyes even before he makes himself known. Donghyuck catches his gaze, still half hidden behind the door frame. He’s smirking when he brings his finger to his lips, asking Mark to keep quiet without words. Mark nods at him dumbly, his mouth going dry when Donghyuck’s grin widens and he winks at him.

Mark barely registers what happens next. He’s still feeling a little out of it, as if he isn’t really present, as if he’s following Donghyuck’s moves through the screen of a fancy cinema. He’s too captivating to be at hand reach, with a smile like sunshine and such confidence, it feels like the old, beautiful high school building is too small to contain him.

He breaks out of his stupor when Renjun starts screaming, sprawled on the floor with his Latin notes scattered all over his body. He keeps waving his hand around, as if he’s trying to smack any part of Donghyuck. But Donghyuck is too far away from him, crouching down behind the chair he pulled from under Renjun when he was about to sit down. He’s got his hands holding the backrest tightly, his cheek squished against the back of it as he laughs out loud, open mouthed, close eyed.

“Mark!” Renjun yells, causing him to jump a little as he tears his gaze away from Donghyuck. “Help me pick this up, motherfucker!”

“You sure have a colorful language in the school grounds for someone who’s so scared of getting in trouble,” Donghyuck teases, pushing himself to his feet, slightly out of breath.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mark hears Renjun mumble as he crouches down to help him collect all his notes. “I swear I’ll end you.”

“Nah, you’d get bored without me,” Renjun rolls his eyes at that. “Hurry up, I found somewhere fun I wanna take you.”

“You’ve been sneaking around again?” Renjun dusts his pants once he’s got all his papers over his table. Donghyuck answers by wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re a menace.”

Mark allows Renjun drag him along with them, because it’s not as if he’s got any other friends at this new school. Also, Donghyuck's got this mystifying twinkling in the corner of his eyes, as if he’s about to open a whole new world just for them. Mark doesn't wanna miss it.

He leads them into another classroom that looks exactly as boring as Mark’s and Renjun’s. But there’s a small staircase behind the door, one that takes them to an old locked door.

“Now’s when the magic starts,” Donghyuck says, mischief painting his words. He throws them a quick glance over his shoulder before he takes a small hairpin out of his pocket. He fiddles with the lock and it comes undone under his fingers in a couple tugs. Mark wonders if the magic ever stops with him.

“This gotta be illegal,” Renjun complains as they get inside. Mark is way too captivated to add anything coherent to it. “And boring.”

“It looks so cool when it’s all dark, stop trying to act as if you’re not impressed,” Donghyuck closes the door and rests his back against it to stare at the view before him.

It is quite impressive, in Mark’s opinion. They are standing in one of the small balconies of the school theater, the audience area spreads under them, deserted and flanked by eerie old statues. The stage looks intimidating in the almost total darkness of the room, with the blood red curtains drawn. It smells like antiseptic and art, if that makes sense. It looks like art, too, something quiet and ancient and mystifying, covered in wood and the tiny flickers of light that sneak in through the enormous closed windows.

If Mark is being honest, he isn’t sure if the small school theater itself is impressive, or if it’s just Donghyuck’s presence in the room, loud even when he’s quiet.

The calmness doesn’t last long, though.

“You’re gonna break the fucking curtains!” Renjun half screams in an alarmed whisper. Donghyuck is climbing over the rail of the balcony to grab one of the curtains that fall all the way to the ground.

“I’ve done this a million times, dummy,” he’s grinning when he jumps off the rail, shining even in the dark. “I’m only telling you about it now.”

Mark looks at him as if he’s watching an actual theater play. Donghyuck falls to the ground with a soft thud, his laughter echoing through the room like an epic soundtrack. He runs to the stage, climbs over the front edge instead of using the stairs that are set on either side of it.

He stands in the middle, in front of the drawn curtains, with one of his arms behind his back and the other resting over his stomach, as if he’s about to break into a song. He’s looking up at the balcony, still grinning. Mark has his hands curled around the rail, his fingertips gone white, looking down with wide eyes.

“Oh, Romeo, Romeo,” Donghyuck starts, his smile only widening when Renjun huffs _lame_ loudly from somewhere behind Mark. “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

Mark desperately wishes he had paid attention to literature class, so he would know what to say next. Donghyuck doesn’t wait for a reply, though, he’s the kind of person who doesn’t need a co-star to his show. And Mark only wants to keep watching.

\- - -

It’s love at third sight.

The air is damp and thick in the crowded space of the gym. The old stone wall is the only source of coolness against Mark’s skin, sticky under the moist layers of his uniform. The other students are way too loud, the air smells way too stale, the artificial lights are way too bright. But Mark can’t move, staring through squinted eyelids.

Donghyuck is laughing, always laughing, as if he carries summer in his veins. Mark should stop with the sun references, if he put as much effort in his creative writing classes, maybe he’d know what to do with his life at this point.

But he can’t help the random thoughts that sneak into his brain just by looking.

It’s the curl of his lips when he smiles, the secrets hiding in the seam of his mouth. It’s his wet hair pushed back and away from his forehead, darkened by sweat, as small droplets fall down his red cheeks. It’s his damp uniform shirt, the way it clings to the muscles of his shoulders and accentuates the curved lines of his body. It’s the flushed skin of his chest, the buttons popped open almost all the way down to his navel, tan skin glistering under the sickly neon lights, not at all appropriate for school. It’s the way he doesn’t care about what’s appropriate or what’s right or what he _should_ do.

It’s the tug in the bottom of Mark’s gut, eager to push himself away from the stone and stretch his hand out for Donghyuck to take. Eager to beg him to drag him wherever he pleases. It’s not as if Mark has anywhere to go, anyway.

But he stays pinned to the wall, because he’s always been too afraid to go for the things he wants. His arm is pressed flush against the severe line of Renjun’s shoulder, who keeps frowning at the scene before him but does nothing to stop it. Because, deep inside, he’s just as captivated.

Donghyuck crouches down on the floor, his clever fingers making a fast job of rolling the ends of his pants up his calves, his open shirt revealing even more of his sun-kissed skin as he leans forward. Mark is simmering from inside out, his clammy hands twisted in the fabric of his own trousers.

“All right, make way,” Donghyuck demands. And everyone listens, opening up the way to the mats lying on the floor before him.

Everyone’s eyes are on him, as if they are waiting for his next magic trick. He doesn’t shrink under the pressure as Mark would, of course he doesn't. He seems to revel in it, his chest inflating with confidence.

It’s like illusionism, the way he floats in the air, curling into himself and tumbling around his own body, his hands barely grazing the mats as he spins and spins into nothing. Mark is holding his breath, mesmerized.

“Holy shit,” Renjun mumbles once Donghyuck lands perfectly at the end of the mat, a proud smile in his lips as his friends approach him to clap him on the back.

“Cool, right?” He looks back at them, his skin sparkling under a thin layer of sweat.

“Yeah,” Mark coughs out. His mouth tastes stale and feels pouty when he says: “Like, a freaking magic show.”

His eyes widen impossibly big when Donghyuck hangs his head low. He’s running a hand along his flushed neck, as if he’s feeling bashful all of a sudden.

“I can teach you one day,” he tells Mark, looking up at him. He tries to wink, but it goes wrong and he ends up blinking awkwardly.

“You’re ridiculous,” Renjun says with a breathy laugh. He curls his hand around one of Mark’s sweaty arms and tugs. “Let’s go before one of the teachers finds this mess and grounds us with them.”

Donghyuck waves them goodbye as they head towards the exit of the gym, bursting into one of his carefree summer laughs. Mark swears he tastes sea water under his tongue, but maybe that’s just what love is supposed to taste like.

\- - -

It’s love at imaginary sight.

“Exams are coming up,” Renjun’s voice sounds too far away even though they are lying next to each other. Mark replies with a hum to let him know he’s listening, feeling too far away from reality as the soft wind hits his face, short grass prickling his neck pleasantly. “What you gonna do next year?”

The question cuts through the smooth warm weather like sharp rain, settles deep down into Mark’s bones like ice, twirling his gut in a way that makes him feel almost sick.

“Still discussing it with my mom,” he lies through his teeth, keeping his eyes closed and his face towards the sun, because Renjun is way too clever to be lied to straight on. “What about you? Do you still want to be a Latin teacher?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to start university and get away from this building,” there’s no trace of uncertainty behind his words. He’s fully aware of his own worth, top of the class since middle school. Far too clever for this place, far too clever for someone like Mark. “Scared they won’t take me seriously since I’m younger, you know? But I’ll prove I’m worth it.”

The finality he speaks with raises a bitter feeling in the pit of Mark’s stomach, something ugly and sour that tastes like jealousy. He wishes he knew what it feels like to walk with steady feet, eyes focused on your own bright future.

He opens his eyes and stares straight into the sun for a few seconds, he forces himself to not blink until his vision gets watery and he has to screw his eyes shut, tiny flashy stars showing up in the darkness of his head. That’s the only bright thing he’ll be seeing any time soon.

“Did you know Hyuck wants to do Astronomy when he finishes next year?” Renjun keeps talking. Mark has found out he isn’t good at handling silences he can’t understand.

“That has like, nothing to do with what he’s studying now?” Mark says, eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t he studying humanities too, but, like, a year behind us?”

“Yeah, but Donghyuck’s weird like that. Who knows what goes on through his head. I think he doesn’t even know what he wants to do.”

Mark’s heart skyrockets at that. The thought of fearless Donghyuck, the boy who runs through school hallways as if he owns them, overflowing with confidence, and not knowing where to go. It’s such a bizarre thing to imagine, Donghyuck’s steady feet, wandering aimlessly, but still dripping determination everywhere he steps on.

It’s a contradictory thought, but still, Mark wishes for it to be true with a desire he didn’t think he owned. He hates it, the desire of being understood. But now, the chance is there, at hand reach. But he’s too scared to reach out and get burnt.

\- - -

Mark has lost count, but he guesses you could call it love at any sight.

It doesn’t matter how many afternoons they spend over at Renjun’s house, locked up in the living room with the windows closed and the curtains drawn, the entire room smelling like sweat and potato chips and teenagers. Mark can’t get used to the sight of Donghyuck sprawled on the couch right next to him. The feeling of him.

They are always wearing shorts, because, after all, they are seven energetic teenagers locked up in a small room for hours, and the warmth gets almost unbearable. Mark’s skin is always oversensitive, as if it’s been rubbed with sand. It makes the feeling of Donghyuck harder to ignore.

It’s way too hot to be this close to someone else, but Donghyuck doesn’t care about the heat, the same way he doesn’t seem to care about anything at all. He’s sprawled all over the couch, his back resting against Chenle’s side, his cheek squeezed against his shoulder as he looks over at the tv, his hair sticking to his forehead in damp strands. He’s got one of his bare legs stretched over Mark’s, and it is incredibly difficult to focus on the game on TV and the control between his fingers when Donghyuck is feverish over him, heavy and real, their skins sticking together with sweat.

It should be gross, the moisture feeling between them. It should be uncomfortable, the itch on his thighs whenever Donghyuck moves a little and their skins rub together. But it feels awfully intimate and weirdly important, hot in Mark’s lower stomach, ticklish in his fingertips. 

He fails every time, the sensation so intense, he keeps pressing the wrong buttons. On the screen, little Yoshi loses control of his car and falls into the void for the millionth time in the same race. Donghyuck’s laughter fills up the room with a new wave of warmth, his leg bobbing up and down over Mark’s.

Mark can’t help but look at him, even if the race is still going on, he’s drawn like a sunflower to the sun. Donghyuck’s got his head pushed back, he always laughs like that, his laughter as carefree as his personality. His neck is all exposed, flushed red and glistering, covered in crumbs of potato chips. His t-shirt is stained with sweat and coke and it riles up his stomach as he raises one of his arms to try to muffle his laughter. Mark gets lost in the sun kissed skin once again, drowning in a sight that he shouldn’t find beautiful by any means.

“Dude, you’ve been playing for a week!” Jisung’s annoyed voice forces Mark to rip his eyes away from Donghyuck and look at him instead. He is looking right back from his place on the floor, in front of the huge tv screen. “How can you still be so fucking bad?”

“Language!” Jaemin cuts him. Jisung rolls his eyes, still facing Mark, waiting for an answer that shouldn’t be important.

“Um,” Mark casts his eyes away, getting hot all over at the thought of admitting out loud he simply can’t focus with Donghyuck existing so close to him. “I’m playing against you, though,” he tries, wincing a little at how high pitched his voice sounds, cracking at the end in a panicked hitch. “You’ve been playing since you were like, literal toddlers.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’ve got taste,” Renjun chimes in from where he’s sitting on the other couch, slumped against Jeno and all over Jaemin, as if it’s something normal.

Mark stares at the screen again, at Renjun’s Dry Bones character, at the big number one that shines bright next to his car. He feels like he’s got a fever.

“And a childhood!” Donghyuck adds, his words ringing with an amused giggle.

He leans over the couch, then; he stretches his arm until he can reach Mark’s face. He pinches Mark’s flaming ear between his oil stained fingers, probably turning it even redder than it already is. He’s staring at Mark with his eyebrows curved up, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he tugs hard at his lob, teasingly. It looks like a dare, a challenge for Mark to take up and push him away, touch him back. But Mark lost every battle in the first glance he threw Donghyuck's way. So all he does is stare back.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know this game,” Donghyuck says when he lets go. Chenle lets out a huff when he collapses back against his side.

“Your life must’ve been so boring before us,” Jisung teases him, already setting up a new race. “Try to fall less than ten times this round, alright?”

Mark is too caught off guard to come up with a reply. He looks at Jisung open mouthed, stammering a little.

Donghyuck giggles again. “Don’t let the brat speak to you like that!” He nudges him with his bare foot, his toes digging into the hard muscle of Mark’s thighs.

Jisung flips them both off without even looking at them. Mark can see himself growing to love all these guys.

\- - -

It’s love at bright sight.

It’s the last day of school, and Donghyuck is shining like the sun itself. It’s such a pretty sight, his wet skin sparkling under the bright sky, droplets of water twinkling golden over the smooth lines of his arms and thighs, scattered along the waves of his hair, falling down the line of his neck.

He’s completely soaked already, even though they left the classrooms less than half an hour ago. His white dress shirt sticks to the planes of his chest and body, accentuating every curve and corner. Mark has to look at him with his chin pointing to the ground, so it is easier to look away every time he gets caught. He steals glances as if he’s staring at something forbidden, but Donghyuck’s smile only brightens every time their eyes meet.

“Don’t be so fucking boring!” He’s grinning when he runs towards Mark, his full cheeks painted pink. “C’mon, old man.”

He reaches for him with wet, cold hands, and all Mark can do is stay still and avoid his eyes. Donghyuck stands so close, he pushes the straps of Mark’s bag off his shoulders and down his arms, his touch freezing cold even under the hot sun. His bag falls to the ground to rest on top of the bundle of backpacks and uniform sweaters that are already all over the pavement.

“Someone should take care of our stuff, though,” Mark complains, a half assed attempt at convincing Donghyuck to let him stay right where he is.

But Donghyuck curls his fingers around Mark’s wrist and tugs, and Mark is hooked on how pretty their skins look right next to each other, golden tan against snow white, matching moles over their forearms.

Mark has nothing to celebrate, his grades full of red numbers prove this. But he doesn’t resist when Donghyuck drags him into the big fountain in front of their school.

It’s awfully uncomfortable. His soaked clothes are heavy on his shoulders, sandpaper rough over his skin. The water jets coming up from the floor hurt when they hit the back of his thighs. He has to squint to be able to see between the fuzzy droplets, coldness seeping past his clothes and sneaking under his skin. But it is worth it.

Jisung jumps on his back without warning, almost bringing the two of them to the ground. Jaemin tickles his sides until Mark is open mouthed, gasping for air but breathing in only water. Jeno steps on the back of his shoe, taking it off by accident, and then he makes Mark chase him all over the park in his wet clothes and with only one leg to get it back. Donghyuck curls an arm around his shoulders, laughing with his wet nose pressed up against Mark’s wet cheek, pulling him under the water again and again and again.

He’s still wet when he gets home, his feet make squeaky noises as he walks towards his mother to set down the crumpled piece of paper with his grades in front of her. She looks at him with hard eyes and tight lips and a set jaw. Mark shrinks a little under her gaze, ducks his head and wraps his arms protectively around himself. She doesn’t yell at him, though, so he counts that as a win.

When he locks himself into his room, his back collapsing against the door tiredly, his entire body hurts. But what hurts most are his cheeks, red and twinkling after smiling for so long.

\- - -

It’s love at starry sight.

It’s still the last day of school, but late at night. Mark’s got scraped knees from when Renjun threw tiny stones to his window and convinced him to crawl down the loose bricks of his old house. Now, his back hurts from lying down for way too long, his bony spine digging into the hard hood of Jeno’s car, one his parents got him to celebrate his perfect grades.

He’s kinda drowsy, his eyes half closed in a mix of sleep and alcohol. He hasn’t drunk much, but he isn’t used to drinking at all, and the exhaustion in his bones makes it easy for him to get a little lightheaded after a few gulps.

Mark should go home. He’s far too tired to be out at god knows what hour in the morning, at the top of a hill in the middle of nowhere, when he knows his mom will be waking him up early to force him to study stuff he doesn’t give a fuck about. But the gentle breeze feels pleasantly cold over his heated cheeks, the dark sky is engulfing him in a kind of calmness he hasn’t felt in far too long, stars winking down at him mischievously, encouragingly.

And Donghyuck is lying next to him, his foot hooked around Mark’s ankle, his bare arm pressed flush against Mark’s clothed one, his lips wet and red and alcohol stained from the drink they’ve been sharing for a while now. Mark is unable to get up and walk away when Donghyuck’s got the moonlight in his eyes. Such a weird sight, golden Donghyuck shining silver.

“So,” Donghyuck is saying. His elbow digs uncomfortably into Mark’s side when he bends his arm to take a sip of the can of beer, throwing it over his head when he realizes it’s already empty. “We’re gonna be classmates next year?”

He says it with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows, an excited curl to his lips, as if it’s something good, an adventure of some kind to look forward to. Mark doesn’t know what’s exciting about spending a whole year with someone that is unable to get a single good grade. So he looks away from Donghyuck and back at the sky, and replies with a shallow shrug.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that,” Donghyuck pushes himself up on his elbows, staring down at him.

Mark has the sudden urge to grab him by the collar and push him down again, because he’s feeling even smaller than he did a few seconds ago, stared down like that.

“You always do that,” Donghyuck shuffles a little until he’s lying on his side, so he can wiggle his fingers in Mark’s face. Mark’s cheeks start to heat up when he feels one of Donghyuck’s legs coming up to rest over his thighs.

“Always do what?” Mark is trying not to look at him, but it’s incredibly difficult when Donghyuck is all up in his personal space.

“The frown,” he says, pulling a weird face, as if he’s trying to imitate Mark’s expression. “And the pout,” he reaches out, then, presses his index finger against Marks lower lip. Mark can’t help himself, his mouth falls open at that, and Donghyuck’s eyes darken with interest. “And you always say so few words. Unless you’re excited, that is. When you are excited you won’t shut up. God, I still have nightmares with that speech about Peter Pan you gave when Renjun randomly brought it up in a conversation.”

“Dreams about Peter Pan could never be nightmares,” Mark complains, jutting his bottom lip out purposefully, because he’s feeling a little reckless tonight. Donghyuck’s eyes fall there unashamedly. “It’s an amazing book.”

“That’s not the point, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck digs his index finger into his chest. “And you know it. It’s like you’re always stuck in your own head, trying to find a deep meaning to everything. Why don’t you try living a little?”

“Don’t know what you are talking about,” Mark mumbles, turning his head away. His eyes find Jaemin and Jeno, huddled close together on the grass next to the car. He ends up looking back at Donghyuck again, because he feels like he’s intruding. “I’m living right now.”

“Renjun told me he had to drag you here,” Mark rolls his eyes at that and it makes Donghyuck snicker over him.

It’s then when Mark realizes how close they are, when the puff of air that leaves Donghyuck’s mouth hits his cheeks softly. His eyes widen a little, struggling to keep them focused on Donghyuck’s, so they don’t slip lower.

“You think too much,” Donghyuck mumbles. His voice has gone quiet all of a sudden, as if he’s sharing a part of Mark he doesn’t want others to discover. “Not everything has to mean something deep.”

Mark doesn’t understand why Donghyuck is spending time on this, on him. Why does he even care what goes on inside of Mark’s mind? Someone who thinks too much would’ve had their life figured out already. Clearly, Mark doesn’t think enough.

His thought process gets harshly interrupted by Donghyuck’s lips. He leans down and presses a hard kiss right to Mark’s half open mouth, so quick, he’s gone before Mark figures out what just happened.

“What?” He says, dumbly, his voice high pitched as his eyes run all over Donghyuck’s face, searching for something that makes sense. But if there’s something he’s learnt about Donghyuck, it is that he never tries to make any sense.

“You were doing it again,” Donghyuck offers in explanation, his lips curled into a smirk as he wiggles his fingers in front of Mark’s face one more time. “You’re doing it right now, in fact,” he whispers, leaning down again, plush lips dragging slowly against Mark’s chapped ones. “C’mon, just have fun.”

Donghyuck kisses the way he lives: carefree and fast and going straight to your head. It feels like a shot of sugar directly into Mark’s veins.

His head attempts to overthink again, thoughts about how his lips are way too chapped for Donghyuck and his hands way too clammy and his skin way too pale. But Donghyuck swats every single thought away with the brush of his tongue behind Mark’s teeth. Donghyuck kisses him hard, as if he’s trying to meld himself with Mark’s skin, trying cut into his head and settle right there. Little does he know Mark made room for him the second he first saw him.

Donghyuck kisses him as playfully as he talks, running away from Mark the second he starts chasing after him with his tongue, sinking his teeth into Mark’s lower lip and tugging at it as he pulls away, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of Mark’s mouth, so slow it tickles. So slow, it makes Mark impatient. So impatient, there’s nothing but raw need inside of him. A need that makes him throw all his inhibitions out the window and curl his clammy hands into Donghyuck’s already messy hair.

Donghyuck giggles into his mouth when Mark pulls him closer, he tastes just as salty as the air smells during summer. Mark desperately wishes this meant something deep.

\- - -

It’s love at first sight, all over again.

It’s the first time Mark sets his eyes on Donghyuck since that day in the hood of Jeno’s car. It’s the uncombed hair again, slightly darker this time, still curling on top of Donghyuck’s head, but pushed back and away from his forehead. It’s the twinkling eyes, growing wide when they meet Mark’s from across the classroom. It’s the full cheeks and the way they flush pink when Mark beckons him closer. It’s the smile, crooked and mischievous, his tongue wetting his lips as he plops down in the free seat next to Mark’s. It’s the short fingers, always clever as he plays with the pen between his hands, and Mark can’t help the rush of memories, the feeling of Donghyuck’s index finger pressing softly against his bottom lip. It’s the curve of his eyebrows as he turns around to face Mark for the first time in over a month. It’s the way he giggles when Mark can’t hold his gaze for longer than two seconds, his chirpy laughter reverberating inside of Mark’s chest and scraping at his heart strings like old chords from a familiar summer song.

“Oh, who do we have here?” Donghyuck bumps their shoulders together, pinching his tongue between his teeth as he searches for something in Mark’s face. “You’ve been missing for a whole month.”

Mark doesn’t know what to make out of his words, because it’s not as if they’ve exchanged numbers, it’s not as if Donghyuck knows where he lives, it’s not as if they’ve ever been close, it has always been Renjun pulling them together. Mark thinks back to the days he spent lying on his bed, his mind running through different places he could casually bump into Donghyuck, but his feet never made it outside.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Donghyuck pressing a thumb between his eyebrows.

“Ah, yeah,” he says quietly, as if sharing a secret. “I missed the frown.”

His touch feels scorching hot against Mark’s skin, spreads warmth all over his face and down his neck. He has to slap Donghyuck’s hand away, sinking his head between his shoulders as he breaks eye contact.

“My mom had me studying all day everyday,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck with a sweaty hand.

“Well, I guess we’re gonna have to make up for the lost time this year, right?” The smile Donghyuck sends his way is sharp like a knife, and Mark wishes he was brave enough to allow himself get cut in half.

And if Mark had trouble paying attention last year, he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to manage this time. He’s got Jaemin and Jeno sitting right behind him, throwing crumpled up paper notes to his head. He’s got Donghyuck sneaking glances at him every five seconds, and Mark has never been able to stop himself from looking right back.

\- - -

It’s love at familiar sight.

The bench creaks uglily under Donghyuck’s feet, but he keeps stepping over it mindlessly, stomping his feet every time one of the lines on his block doesn't come out like he wants it to.

“You’re gonna break it one of these days,” Mark tells him, looking up from his own sketchbook from where he’s sitting on the floor, his back resting against the cold stone wall.

Donghyuck quirks an amused eyebrow at him. “Is that your way of calling me fat?”

“That’s my way of calling you careless,” Mark looks away when Donghyuck’s eyes get too much.

“What’s so bad about being careless?”

Mark thinks about the principal back at his old school, the wrinkles in his forehead as he yelled at him whenever he caught him trying to sneak out through the garage door. He thinks about the harsh curl of his mother’s mouth, the disappointment written all over her face every time she gets a phone call from school. He thinks about the way his father’s face didn’t even fall when he checked his grades the previous year, because he wasn’t expecting anything at all, because he’s used to useless.

“Well, you could end up stuck in here next year, too,” Mark shrugs casually, as he redirects his attention to the sketchpad in his lap.

Donghyuck goes silent for a long time, so long, Mark thinks the conversation is over. He’s able to actually pull his attention away from Donghyuck and into his work for once. But then, there’s a soft thud as Donghyuck jumps off the bench. When he looks up to find Donghyuck walking towards him, Mark thinks this may be the first time he’s seen a serious expression in his golden face.

“I don’t think you’re still here because you were being careless,” he says, crouching down in front of Mark. “I think you're just bored.”

He’s so close now, staring at Mark like he can read right through him. Mark has to look away again, his eyes downcast towards his loose pencil traces.

“Those are so good,” Donghyuck whispers. A new kind of heat runs all the way up Mark's spine, spreading through his face. He feels exposed, staring down at the messy lines on the paper that form the silhouette of a boy standing on a bench, arms stretched out as if he's about to take off. Warm fingers touch softly under Mark’s chin, lifting his head up to meet his eyes, “doesn’t look like something a careless person would draw.”

Mark coughs awkwardly, pulls himself away a little too harshly, choking out a breathy laugh. If Donghyuck takes offense, he doesn’t show it. He picks up his own sketchpad from where he left it on the floor and gets back up on the bench, spreading his arms wide, grinning so big, almost triumphant.

It’s such an uncomfortable feeling, when the person who seems to get you best is someone you barely know. But they say sometimes strangers get you better than those closest to you. The thing is, Mark doesn’t want Donghyuck to be a stranger, but he’s way too scared to let him get closer.

\- - -

It's love at intense sight.

This is not the first time Mark gets dragged to one of Donghyuck's taekwondo classes, it's not the first time he's seen him slamming his body against someone else's. But it is the first time he gets onto the mat with him.

“You're going to break me,” Mark jokes, stepping over the back of his own shoes to get them off.

Donghyuck won't get his eyes off of him. He's been staring since Mark walked into the gym once the other trainees left. Every time Mark looks back at him, he doesn't last longer than two seconds.

“That's what you'd like,” Donghyuck says, the tip of his tongue sneaking between his teeth to wet his lower lip.

When Mark looks away, Donghyuck's giggle echoes against the walls and inside his chest.

“C'mon, I know you are not a coward,” Donghyuck motions him closer with his fingers.

Mark thinks _you know nothing,_ but he steps closer and into Donghyuck's space anyway, because it's not as if he'd ever be able to walk away.

Donghyuck is rough on him: he kicks at Mark's ribs hard enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise; he punches his knuckles to his chest and digs his fingers into the flesh of his forearms until there are angry red lines over his pale skin. And Mark loves every single bit of it.

It's the tantalising moment before, his muscles all tensed up waiting for Donghyuck's next move. It's the adrenaline rush that wakes goosebumps up Mark's spine when he manages to visualize Donghyuck's steps. It's the bright look on Donghyuck's eyes whenever he moves out of his way just in time. It's the way it becomes hard to swallow when Donghyuck's chest collides against his. It's the way Mark's breath gets caught in his throat when Donghyuck pushes him to the floor and goes down with him. It's the way Donghyuck's cheeks light up when he's looking down at Mark, breathless and vulnerable and defenses under him. It's the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff with no security rope, knowing that the person behind you could push you off at any second, but also knowing with an impossible security that they never would.

It's a kind of trust Mark has never experienced before, and his own expression reflected in Donghyuck's glossy eyes makes his blood run cold.

He doubts for a second, wonders if what he sees in Donghyuck's eyes is the mirror of his own feelings or if Donghyuck is feeling the exact same thing. But, then, a phone rings somewhere in the empty room, Donghyuck blinks, and the look is gone.

Mark only realizes how hard and painful the mat is against his back when Donghyuck gets off him, scrambling to stand up. He stays lying there, squinting under the artificial lights of the gym, as Donghyuck talks on the phone, his voice like an old song that gets stuck in Mark's head almost every day.

\- - -

It’s love at a lost sight.

“You know Donghyuck found a girl?”

Mark didn't _know,_ but he saw it coming on the way Donghyuck seems glued to his phone lately, how he barely sees him around outside of a classroom. So he hums knowingly, eyes fixed on his own feet, floating in the clear water of the community pool in Chenle's apartment building.

“And?” Renjun bumps his shoulder against Mark's until he gets him to look at him. “Are you okay?”

Mark's eyebrows shoot up, wrinkling his forehead. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Don't play dumb with me,” Renjun clicks his tongue, an exasperated gesture that contrasts the soft motion of his foot, ankle hooked over Mark's under the water. “Saw you making out a couple months ago.”

“That was. Um, we were just…” Mark's tongue is heavy in his mouth. He looks down at the water again, considering jumping in so he doesn't have to search for an answer that won't sound like a lie to Renjun's clever ears. “We were having fun,” and it drips truth everywhere, the honesty of it scratching at Marks ribs.

“C'mon, Mark,” cold droplets hit Mark right in the face when Renjun kicks at the water. “You've been crushing on him for months. I'm not fucking blind.”

“So?” He turns to look at Renjun, forces himself to keep the eye contact even though his face feels like he’s about to burst into flames. “I’m fine, for real.”

Renjun clicks his tongue one more time, rolling his eyes before he pushes himself off the edge of the pool and into the water. “Don’t come crying to me later if it hurts.”

That won’t happen, Mark hasn’t cried since he was a little kid. Even though sometimes he still feels like one. Also, he thinks, stroking the pad of his fingers over his sore ribs, it already hurts. But it’s okay, because Donghyuck has always been too out of reach for him, he hasn’t lost anything. He’s never had anything to lose in the first place.

\- - -

It’s love at starry sight again, at a wasted chance.

“I got the role,” Donghyuck’s got his eyes closed, moonlight dancing over his face and turning his skin paler than usual. Mark’s fingers tickle with eagerness, the need to reach out and pinch the soft, full cheeks between his fingertips, bring the color back to him.

He hums in question, asking without words, his hands trapped under his butt as he lies on top of the hood of a car again, Jaemin’s this time.

“The role in the school play? For the show at the end of the year?” Donghyuck brushes against his side as he moves, turning to lie on his side instead and face Mark. “C’mon, I told you about this. You never listen to me.”

The thing is, Mark tries to listen, but it gets really difficult when Donghyuck gets this close every time they are together. He conquers every single bit of Mark’s personal space, inside and out, and how is he supposed to focus on anything this way?

He can’t say that out loud, though. Not now when Donghyuck’s got a girl. Not earlier, when all the words fell too short. So he says, “sorry, I don’t know where my head’s at.”

“Up your ass, that’s where it is. Always is.” Donghyuck’s frowning, but he doesn’t sound mad, only frustrated. Mark hates the way he’s got his face pinched, reminds him of his mom.

“Don’t do that,” his hand moves between them, going up, up, up, until he can smooth Donghyuck’s skin with his thumb, palms growing sweaty. “You always call me out when I do that.”

“Play the piano for me,” he says out of the blue, an eager glint to his eyes. Mark’s hand falls limp on his stomach, now he’s the one who’s frowning. “For the play, Mark. It’s a musical. We need a pianist and I know you can do it. I’ve heard you before, the keyboard in your living room.”

There’s hope under Donghyuck’s tone, he’s gripping hard on Mark’s forearm now, his fingers digging there so tightly the tips are going white. He’s only played the keyboard in front of Donghyuck once, because his mom insisted on it, and he tripped over the notes nine times out of ten. He can’t do it, he dropped out of piano classes three months in. He failed at it just like he keeps failing at everything else.

“Stop it,” Donghyuck cuts in when Mark opens his mouth to reject him. “You’re overthinking again. It’s just a school play, our last year together.”

Donghyuck’s eyes are so bright like this, all wide and shining silver under the night sky. Mark wishes he could care half as much as Donghyuck does, but the last year of high school doesn’t feel like a turning point for him, it feels like a loop he’s going to repeat until he gets kicked out.

But then, Donghyuck mumbles, “do it for me.” And Mark, Mark wishes he knew how to stop himself from falling in love day after day after day.

“Why are you joining the school play anyway?” He asks instead, sliding his eyes from Donghyuck’s hopeful face and towards the sky. “Didn’t you wanna be an astrologist or something? You keep doing stuff that doesn’t make sense.”

“It's called living, Mark. I wanna keep trying new stuff. Who says I gotta be stuck in science all my life?” Mark’s mouth goes dry at the reality of having so many different paths open in your life that you are unable to stick to one. Somehow, that thought is even more claustrophobic that getting stuck in an endless cycle because you have no options. “And it’s astronomy, not astrology,” Donghyuck says, slapping Mark’s cheek affectionately.

“Can you, like, read my future in the stars or some shit?” Mark pushes himself up a little bit on his elbows, pushes his head back to look at the night sky. The pollution of the city isn’t that bad up on this hill, a few brave stars blink down at him. “I have no idea how to do that living thing you’re talking about.”

He’s baring himself in front of Donghyuck, speaking more than he’s ever allowed himself to, unzipping his skin and stepping out of it to let someone else take a peek inside of his mind. It’s not much, what he’s said, but it makes his insides twist in an uncomfortable knot, all the muscles in his body tensing as he waits for an answer.

Donghyuck giggles next to him. Of course he does.

“Astronomy, Mark. Not astrology,” he says, his cold fingers brushing the side of Mark’s jaw, going down the line of his throat. Mark doesn’t turn to look at him, he closes his eyes, but keeps facing the sky. “But I don’t have to know shit about the stars to assure you that it’s okay if you don’t know what to do at 19. They make us choose too soon, anyway. I’m still a fucking kid, that’s why I can’t stick to anything.”

Mark doesn’t say anything for a while. He keeps his eyes closed, trying to take in the foreign sensation of feeling completely known for the first time. He swallows hard, and he can feel the pads of Donghyuck’s fingers tapping over his Adam’s apple. Fearless, unconquerable Lee Donghyuck, beside him, just as lost as unsteady as Mark himself, hands firm over Mark’s skin.

Donghyuck is still staring down at him when Mark opens his eyes, moonlit skin and twinkling eyes, and Mark is still deciding which way he should lean in when the obnoxious ringtone of Donghyuck’s phone cuts through the air between them. When Donghyuck pushes himself away from him, it is like a slap to Mark’s cheek, white-hot and sharp. It’s like someone screaming into his face to wake up and stop reaching for more than what he deserves.

There’s a sour aftertaste under his tongue, but it’s not summer salt, it tastes like missed chances.

\- - -

It’s love at vulnerable sight.

The first time Mark hears Donghyuck cry is through Renjun’s phone.

They were supposed to meet up in Mark’s apartment to practice for the school play. Donghyuck is more than an hour late when the phone rings, somewhere from between the million music sheets Mark has scattered around the couch.

He almost falls on his way to get it, his thumb shakes when he slides it over the screen to accept the call.

The first thing he hears is a sniffle, and then a choked out “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Hyuck?” Mark pinches his own bottom lip between his fingers, trying to keep the worry at bay, but failing miserably when Donghyuck whines on the other end of the line.

“Where’s Renjun?” Mark is thrown off for a second, because who cares about Renjun when Donghyuck sounds so broken on the other side of the phone.

“He, um. Out, buying food,” Mark stumbles over his words, worry tying a knot so tight around his throat it becomes hard to breathe. “Listen, Donghyuck. Where- I mean. Are, are you okay?”

A small giggle comes out of the phone, but it sounds so clearly artificial to Mark’s ears.

“You’re not. Not okay. Where are you?” He’s already on his way to the door before Donghyuck gives him an answer, ready to leave without his keys, feet clad in some old red socks only.

“Mark, I’m fine. I’m downstairs.” Mark stops dead in his tracks, frowns down at his own hand, already wrapped around the doorknob.

“What are you doing down there? Come up right now. You are not okay. Are you hurt?” He is too worried to care if his voice sounds way more concerned than it should. Right now, all he wants is for Donghyuck to stop forcing his laughter, it sounds dark and artificial and just _wrong_.

“Relax. I’m not hurt. I mean…” the line hangs silent between them for a few seconds. Mark fears he might throw up. “At least, not physically, you know?”

And Mark thinks _that might be worse._

It takes him five minutes to convince Donghyuck to come up. It is such a ridiculous situation, Mark of all people having to reassure someone else, promising Donghyuck of all people that he will not laugh at him, no matter how he looks.

(“Not even if I’ve got two red balls as eyes?”

“Not even. I didn’t even laugh that time you got a pimple bigger than your head in the tip of your nose.”)

But it is worth it, because Donghyuck ends up giggling in the other end, genuinely, this time. And five minutes later, Mark is pulling him into the apartment and into his arms.

“How’d you know I wasn’t fine?” His words muffled against the fabric of Mark’s old sweater.

Mark doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t believe himself able to confess out loud that he’s got memorized the way Donghyuck’s laughter breaks at the end when it is genuine, doesn’t think anyone would understand if he said out loud that Donghyuck laughs like sunshine.

So he says, “‘cause I know you.” And, by the way Donghyuck tightens his fists on the back of Mark’s sweater, that might be the right answer.

“Turns out getting broken up with really fucking sucks,” Donghyuck pulls away. He runs the back of his hand under his nose, sniffling a little before he forces a small smile on his lips. Mark doesn’t ask, but still, Donghyuck explains: “I didn’t even like her that much, you know? Just wanted to have some fun? But, apparently, I am too much,” his voice comes out high pitched and mocking. He waves a hand through the air to make his words seem less important than they actually are. “So, nothing new.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say. He stands there, with his hands balled in the hem of his own sweater, trapped between anger and worry. It’s such an ugly sensation, he is incapable of coming up with anything to make Donghyuck feel better, and that’s what feels worse, the guilt.

He asks, “you want me to play something for you?” and drags Donghyuck towards the living room, fingers around his wrist tighter than necessary, just to make sure he doesn’t crumple again.

The forgotten music sheets make crunching noises under their weight when they flop down into the couch, so close to each other, their shoulders knock together when Mark places his slender fingers over his keyboard. He closes his eyes and plays Peter Pan’s Flying theme, because if there is one thing that makes him feel better, it is feeling like a kid.

Mark doesn’t trip over his fingers, this time. He’s played this one so many times, it is like muscle memory, fingers sliding easily over the keys while he keeps his eyes closed.

“You’re so good,” Donghyuck tells him once he’s done.

Mark doesn’t think he is that good, he _knows_ he isn’t that good. But Donghyuck’s cheeks are dry, and that feels way better than any of the few good grades he’s ever gotten throughout his high school years. Not everything has to have a deep meaning, but he feels never ending.

Renjun gets to the apartment a few moments later, and it only takes him one look towards Donghyuck to figure out what happened. He doesn’t say anything about the way Donghyuck is curled into Mark’s side, his forehead pressed to his neck as Mark twists his fingers through his hair, tentatively. He just curls his eyebrow at Mark and sits down at the other side of Donghyuck.

\- - -

Playing piano gets easy faster than Mark thought it would. Soon enough, he finds himself reaching for his guitar, too. He goes to the convenience store across the street to buy a notebook and some pens, and he fills it up with lyrics so fast, he has to buy two new ones only a week later.

His homework is always forgotten at the bottom of his school bag, discarded in order to get to his music faster when he arrives home from school. The disapproving glances his mom cast at him are hard to ignore, as are the annoyed knocks on his door, his dad’s voice telling him he’s _getting too loud_ and to _put the damn guitar down and do something that actually matters._

But as Mark pinches the strings between his calloused fingertips, he feels steadier than he’s ever felt before.

\- - -

Mark decides it’s love at every single sight.

They sneak into the school theater again, the day of the play. But they do it late at night, once it is already over and the audience in the room has been replaced by ghostly shadows. The curtains are still wide open, the floor covered in confetti, crumpled and dirty for the times it’s been stepped on.

And Donghyuck looks even brighter now than he did during the play. He has no one to share the stage with, this time. He stands in the middle of it, in the dark, singing along to whatever song Mark decides to play on the school piano. He molds to Mark’s movements so nicely, so seamlessly, waiting for him every time he trips over his own fingers, patient in a way Mark has never seen him be before.

The only reason why Mark is clumsy on his keys is because he isn’t used to this model, because he is playing in the almost pitch black of the closed theater. His fingertips slide over the keys with a confidence he doesn’t feel anywhere else.

“Oh, Romeo, Romeo,” Donghyuck is grinning when he walks towards him, eyes twinkling so brightly they might as well be the only source of life in the deserted theater. “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

Mark stops his hands, rests his fingers on the now warm keys as he looks up at Donghyuck.

It’s the folded arms, resting over the piano as he leans over it, as close to Mark as he can get. It’s the blush on his cheeks, so prominent, it is visible even in the gloom of the room. It’s the makeup on his face, already smudged after a full day of bright lights and sweat onstage. It’s the shirt from his character in the play, rumpled and with a few buttons popped open, revealing moles across his collarbones. It’s his light brown hair, curling around his ears and over his forehead, way longer than the first time Mark placed his eyes on him, but just as messy. It’s the way the room feels _full_ with just his presence, the buzzing in Mark’s veins as he pushes himself up from the piano stool to lean closer. It’s the way his fingers fold over Mark’s forearms as soon as he is at hand reach, all clammy but steady, always steady. It’s the curl in the seam of his mouth when Mark’s eyes fall there, and stay there as he says:

“I don’t know how Romeo and Juliet goes, but I really wanna kiss you right now.”

He balls his hands, sinks his nails into his own flesh and forces himself to not regret it. It was Donghyuck the one who told him he should stop overthinking everything, after all.

And it’s the way Donghyuck’s eyes go soft around the corners, the way he gets up in his tiptoes to lean even closer, fingers sliding down Mark’s arms, working his hands open so he can intertwine their fingers together over the top of the piano.

“It’s a speech, so you better do it now before I start rambling.”

Mark is kneeling on the stool, the edge of the piano digging into his ribs as he stretches his body over the top, one hand twisted in the front of Donghyuck’s shirt to yank him closer, the other one still intertwined with Donghyuck’s fingers. His neck hurts for the position he’s in, the stool creaking dangerously under his weight, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Not when Donghyuck is kissing him like this: like going over the speed limit in a deserted road in the middle of the night, even though Mark hasn’t driven a car in his life; like standing in the edge of a cliff, looking down at the waves breaking against the rocks, thinking of jumping, even though Mark has never seen the ocean before; like lying down in the middle of a pedestrian crossing when the light is red, the hard asphalt digging into every edge of your bones, reminding you that you are alive.

Donghyuck kisses him as if he’s living on the edge and Mark’s mouth is the only thing that can keep him there, present and real. He bites and pulls and scratches, and Mark can’t do anything but bring all his defenses down, offer him all the empty spaces inside of him, open handed and bare chested.

Their kisses taste like giving up in a whole new way.

So, when he gets home in the middle of the night, with his lips swollen and red, purple marks scattered down the sore line of his throat, Mark decides he’s giving up.

The hard line in his mother’s lips when he tells him he’s dropping out is nothing he isn’t familiar with. His father’s harsh fingers digging into the skin of his shoulder when he tries to leave the house is nothing he isn’t familiar with. But, as he drags his half empty suitcase out the front door of the apartment complex, it doesn’t feel like he’s giving up. He’s finally giving in.

\- - -

It’s love at first sight, for the third fucking time.

“Stop. Disappearing. On. Me.” Donghyuck punctuates every single word with a punch to Mark’s chest, fists closed and knuckles white as they dig into Mark’s ribs again and again and again.

Mark doesn’t stop him for a while, because he guesses that’s what he deserves from dropping off the face of the earth for a month, now. And he’s too caught up in the view in front of him to react.

A month can’t change you much, Donghyuck looks almost exactly the same as he did their last night together, at the school theater. But the bluish neon lights of the club are dancing over his tan face, accentuating the bags under his eyes and the worried wrinkles in his forehead, his bloodshot gaze and the peeled skin of his now chapped lips. He’s shining so bright, but it’s the wrong kind of brightness, tears huddling together in the corner of his eyes. He still looks beautiful, with sparkly eyeshadow smudged down his cheeks.

Mark wraps his fingers around Donghyuck’s wrists, pushes his forehead against Donghyuck’s as he mumbles, “I’m sorry,” so quietly, he doesn’t think it is audible over the loud EDM music of the club.

But Donghyuck manages to hear him anyway. Or that’s what Mark guesses, because he breaks free from Mark’s grip just to pull him closer with a hand on his neck, crashing their mouths together.

It feels just as dangerous as their other kisses, but there’s an angry edge to it. Donghyuck bites down so hard into Mark’s bottom lip, as if he’s trying to draw blood, as if he’s trying to mark him up. And Mark thinks _please_ , because if there’s somewhere he belongs to, it’s gotta be Donghyuck’s mouth.

Donghyuck drags him out of the club with a hand fisted in the front of his shirt. It’s late at night, Mark is underdressed for the cold breeze that hits his burning skin.

“So,” Donghyuck turns to look at him, presses his hand flat against Mark’s chest, smoothing the wrinkles on his shirt that he himself created. “You work here now?”

“Um, yeah,” Mark coughs, trying to gain himself some time to get his thoughts in order. But Donghyuck is looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes, his thumb moving back and forth over his chest. “My mom kinda kicked me out when I told her I wasn’t finishing high school. I pour drinks here so I can pay for my shitty flat and…” He stops, rubs the back of his neck with his hand as he lowers his eyes to the floor. “And for the conservatory. Yeah, music classes. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Mark,” he snaps his head up, meeting Donghyuck’s wide eyed gaze, the gentle smile on his lips. “Mark, that’s good,” he’s moving his hand up Mark’s chest, walking his fingers along the line of his shoulder to settle them against his pulse point. “That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you,” he giggles at the end, high pitched and chirpy and so familiar. Mark curls his own fingers around Donghyuck’s wrist, keeping him there.

“I’m not sure… I mean, it doesn’t feel quite right. Not yet. But it’s better than high school,” Donghyuck keeps nodding at him, so encouragingly and enthusiastically. Far more welcoming than he should be, considering Mark has been ghosting him for a whole month. “Sorry. I didn’t know how to face anyone when I. Well, when I dropped out.”

“Shut up. Just…” Donghyuck takes a step closer, until he can fit one of his feet right in between Mark’s. “You are getting somewhere, doing what feels better. That’s what matters.”

Mark can only nod, feeling a little out of it, intoxicated by the closeness between them. The way Donghyuck is touching him is so gentle, so different to the usual frantic rush of his fingers. He thumbs over Mark’s bottom lip, digs the tip of his nose into his cheek. Mark’s lips have already fallen open, all pliant and malleable under Donghyuck’s hands. But the kiss never comes.

Donghyuck pulls away a little, with a hand fisted in Mark’s hair to force him to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’ll end up doing with your life, Mark. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know where mine is going. And that’s fine,” he tugs at Mark’s hair roughly, dragging a whine from the back of his throat. “We will figure it out along the way. Because what I do know is that I’m not letting go of you again.”

This time, when Donghyuck kisses him, it is gentle: like wet sand melting under his bare feet; like a car ride early in the morning, playing songs on the radio that don’t fit the mood; like a marathon of theater plays, reciting the lines along with the characters; like playing a familiar melody with the ukulele in the balcony, late at night, Donghyuck’s voice singing along.

Taking in how he feels now, Mark he knows he was too quick to call it love at first sight, that first day in the school hallway. But who cares, if he ended up deep in anyway, and he doesn’t plan to get out any time soon.

When they pull away and Mark looks at him, Donghyuck is staring right back at him with liquid sunshine in his eyes. He is so open and real and close, just at hand reach.

Mark decides he should call it love at forever sight.

**Author's Note:**

> thank uuuuuuu to everyone who opened this fic and made it to the end!!! it'd mean a lot to me if you left a comment letting me know how u feel about this. thank you so much for reading <3
> 
> come talk to me if u want!!!  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/tiniemarks) // [cc](https://curiouscat.me/tiniesung)


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